The Unexpected Perils of Rural Litter Picking (and the Adidas-Wearing Sheep Responsible)

If I’m honest, sometimes we all just need a bit of a kick up the bum. 

Not a dramatic life overhaul. Not a silent retreat in the mountains. Just a gentle nudge to stop talking about doing good things and actually… doing them. 

For me, ES10 — Eden Smith’s 10-year anniversary volunteering initiative — has been exactly that. A very welcome kick up the bum. 

It’s also helped me combine two goals I’ve been meaning to prioritise: 

1. Getting outside and walking every day 
2. Doing something that gives back with purpose 

So I decided to start litter picking on my daily walks. 

Now, I live in the countryside. The sort of place people escape to in order to get away from the pollution of the city. Rolling fields. Quiet lanes. Fresh air. The kind of setting that suggests litter would be a rare and mysterious phenomenon. 

Naturally, I assumed the culprits were obvious. 

Clearly it’s the Adidas-wearing, cider-swilling, crisp-popping sheep that roam the surrounding fields causing all the havoc. 

I mean, have you seen them? Suspiciously casual about the whole thing. 

Unfortunately, after several weeks of investigation (and the sheep maintaining a firm policy of plausible deniability), it turns out the responsibility probably lies a little closer to home with the humans passing through. 

But rather than dwelling on that, I’ve been quietly enjoying the process of doing something small that makes a visible difference. 

Because here’s the interesting thing: litter picking is oddly satisfying. 

There’s a strange joy in turning a walk into a mini mission. Spotting something in a hedge, retrieving it, and leaving the place just that little bit better than you found it. It’s simple. It’s tangible. And it reminds you how small actions add up. 



That said, like any good field experiment, there have been a few learnings along the way. 

Three Key Litter-Picking Learnings 

1. Add brambles and barbed wire to the risk assessment. 
Countryside hedgerows are essentially nature’s version of an obstacle course. What appears to be a harmless crisp packet will almost certainly be guarded by aggressive brambles or suspiciously well-placed barbed wire. Approach with caution. 

2. Always tip the liquid out of cans before bagging them. 
This lesson was learned the hard way. Nothing quite ruins the triumphant moment of adding a can to your bag like discovering it contains half a pint of mysterious roadside liquid that then empties itself directly into your litter sack (and occasionally onto your shoes). 

3. Bring a bigger bag than you think you’ll need. 
You start thinking you’ll pick up “just a few bits.” Twenty minutes later you’re carrying a surprisingly heavy sack wondering how a single stretch of road managed to generate three cans of cider, two crisp packets, and something that used to be part of a sandwich wrapper in 2007. 

Why This Matters 

The point of ES10’s volunteering drive isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about creating impact in lots of small ways. 

For me, this one has been perfect. It gets me outside every day, combines well-being with purpose, and leaves the local area a little cleaner than before. 

It’s also a reminder that doing something is infinitely better than doing nothing, even if it starts with a small act like picking up a discarded crisp packet. 

And if we all did a little bit more of that, we might even put those Adidas-wearing sheep out of business.